


Thorin and Fíli

by Judayre



Series: Pair and Gender Challenge [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gender binary is for wimps, tagged in chapters, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:25:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shorts from 4 different variations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read [the explanation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1145580/chapters/2319756) if you haven't.
> 
> I was thinking of Life Debt with this chapter, but it could really go with anything other than Line of Durin.

"Shouldn't Kíli be here?" Fíli asked, voice still high and piping.

Thorin shook his head, getting down on one knee to be on a closer level. Fíli wasn't twenty yet, but he was too big to be carried (and would have protested the indignity). "You are next in line, so there are things you need to know that Kíli doesn't."

Fíli frowned, brows drawing together. "Kíli is your heir too, uncle!"

"Of course he is," Thorin answered, reaching out to smooth his nephew's brow. "But you will be king and he will not. So you must come with me and see what that means."

The boy puffed up with importance and Thorin hid his smile. It would be a hard lesson, he knew. Being the king wasn't about glory - not in exile from Erebor. And even in that kingdom of plenty, ruling was about laws and justice more than it was about gold and glory. Best to teach that now.

Fíli was a good lad, diligent in his studies and responsible with his brother, and Thorin knew that the time spent with him would be spent well. He led the way to the room he used as a court, Fíli skipping behind to keep up.

And if he carried the boy home in the evening, he never mentioned it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli tries on one of his mother's dresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much longer chapter. This one is the introduction of another 'verse that will be returned to. Thráin vanished several years after Azanulbizar and the Dwarves needed assurance that the line of Durin wasn't dying. Thorin had no interest in marriage or children of his own, but Dís was pregnant, so he decided her child would be his heir. But it was a daughter where they needed a son. So they named and announced Fíli as a son.
> 
> And then just five years later, Kíli was born. But they couldn't have known. And they couldn't just say "oh, by the way the other one isn't a boy." So Fíli has been raised as a boy.

Mother was out visiting until it was time to make dinner. Kíli was taking a day off from study to go hunting with Dwalin. Thorin wasn't expected back from his smithing trip until evening. Fíli had the day to himself.

Thrumming with nerves despite being alone in the house, Fíli snuck into his mother's room. He lit the candles on her vanity to get extra light and approached the clothes press. His hands were shaking as he opened it, and he forced himself to stop and take deep breaths. He was almost grown. He was a warrior. There was no one to see him.

He pulled out the first dress he touched and shut the clothes press with a bang. It was a powder blue one he'd seen her wear at many celebrations. It had lace around the neckline and narrow sleeves with lace in waves down the length of them and widening them. The skirt was full and long - and would be longer on Fíli because he was shorter than his mother. It, too, had lace around the hem.

He knew that in Erebor his mother would have worn clothes covered in gems and this would be something to wear as a common daily dress. But he had never seen her in anything finer - couldn't _imagine_ anything finer - and was amazed he'd pulled out this dress blindly of all the things she had.

Fíli wasn't usually careful about his clothes. He threw them on the floor or over a chair when he changed. But right then he was slow and purposeful. His drew off his pants - since he was home he was barefoot and didn't have to worry about boots - and folded them carefully before laying them neatly on the floor. His shirt followed, and then he was only in his underthings.

He put his hands to his binder and they shook so hard he couldn't unhook the clasps. He wanted to sit, but then he wouldn't be able to get back up he was certain. He clasped his hands together tightly, closed his eyes for a long moment, and breathed deep. Then, eyes still closed, he took off his binder and let it fall to the floor.

He took another deep breath and pressed his hands over his breasts. He was unused to the feel of them despite the fact that they were his. He wore the binder all day, and had always been too nervous to touch himself at night. They were soft, he found, and bouncy. The hair that curled over them was soft. And his touch across his own nipples made them harden and an unfamiliar thrill ran through his belly.

But this was not what he had come for, and he pulled his hands away and forced himself to open his eyes. The dress was lying on the bed and he breathed out a sigh as he picked it up. His mother wore all kinds of petticoats and undergarments with it, but he wasn't feeling brave enough to go into the press again.

He shimmied into the dress, belatedly glad that the mother of pearl buttons were up the front and not the back. He was able to close them himself. And if he had ever doubted that he took after his father, this would have silenced them. He was shorter than his mother and not likely to grow anymore since he was 80, and despite his strong figure he was still slighter than her as well.

Still, it didn't fit badly. Fíli was able to hold the skirt up so he wouldn't trip over it when he went to the vanity. And wasn't that something that made him appreciate what he had! He had trouble walking in the dress. He would never be able to run in it or fight in it.

He eyed the bottles on his mother's vanity. He hadn't the training to use them properly, so he decided to just use a little. Some red on his lips and a little for his cheeks. Blue over his eyes, because mother always said that it made her own blue eyes shine. And since they were the only thing he seemed to have gotten from her he wanted them to shine.

He looked in the vanity mirror and frowned, then started to pull out the braids in his hair. He'd never seen his mother or any girl with hair done up like his own. He had helped his mother a few times with hers, but his fingers were clumsy and inexpert as he brushed and coiled his own in patterns that were familiar to look at.

And then he rose and turned to the full length glass. And stopped, mouth opened in shock. He was pretty. He didn't fill out the bosom of the dress properly, but he'd never seen himself without the binder before. And it wasn't full, no, but it was far from the flatness it had been the last time he'd been able to go without it.

He was _pretty_. Pretty like the girls he sometimes looked at shyly.

He'd never seen himself with a girl's figure before, and he turned this way and that, watching the skirt swish around his ankles. And his mother was right. The blue of the dress and the make up made his eyes stand out in a way he'd never noticed. His eyes were blue. Blue like his mother's and his uncle's. The surest sign he belonged with them. And they were so bright in the mirror.

"Fíli."

He spun, nearly tripping over the too long hem of the dress. "Uncle," he said, voice breaking too high in the middle of it.

"Oh, Fíli...." Thorin looked so pained, so guilty. "Oh my lad...."

Fíli crossed his arms over his chest, looking down with a light shake of his head that sent his hair spilling to cover his face. "I'm sorry, uncle," he said.

Arms circled him and he was pressed close to Thorin's chest, head pressed to his shoulder. "You have no need to apologize," his uncle said, voice a low rumble that never failed to make Fíli feel safe. "It is my fault that you are forced to do this in secret. It is my fault no one else can see this."

"I don't usually want this," Fíli assured, still curled on himself protectively. "I am honored to be your nephew and I have never wanted anything except to make you proud."

"Oh, Fíli," Thorin whispered again. "Oh my good child. I am never anything but proud of you. Nephew or niece, I am honored to be your uncle."

And Fíli, wearing his mother's dress and looking nothing like the proud young warrior he was, finally leaned into his uncle's embrace and wept. And Thorin bent his head and curled himself protectively around the youth and wished there was some way to correct what they had had to do at his birth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli has never wanted to be like anyone as he wants to be like his aunt.

There was no one Fíli ever wanted to be like more than his aunt. Thorin daughter of Thráin was a strong leader, a good caretaker, a loving aunt. She ruled her people fairly, kept them fed and safe, and was the smith to teach him and his brother the craft.

He always admired her, but it wasn't until he was past 50 that he understood just how amazing she was. That was when he heard his mother call her Thrailís. He'd never heard that name before - his aunt was Thorin, wasn't she?

That was when he started asking careful questions and doing research for himself. And what he found astounded him. Women made up a small part of the Dwarf population, and though their craft work was highly prized they were kept out of war and politics. He'd always known that, really, but he hadn't related that to his aunt.

There had been a brother. Fíli knew the names of his parents and grandparents, knew the line of Durin back to Durin the Deathless himself, but he had never actually looked at a genealogy. He did now. His mother was listed as Sigdís, the full name she rarely used, and there was an older sister named Thrailís. Someone had neatly crossed that out and written Thorin over it.

In between them was a name Fíli had never heard before and he repeated it to himself silently a few times. Frerin. Frerin, the cool rain that was the hope of the line of Durin after the madness of Thrór. 

But then Azanulbizar. He had heard about it. He knew Thrór had died in it. He knew Thráin hadn't been seen since then. But Frerin died then as well. In one stroke, the male line of Durin was destroyed, and the people of Erebor left alone and without a light to show the way.

And that was when Thrailís had changed her name, changed her dress and taken on the role that should always have been hers as the eldest. She chose Thorin - son of the last Thráin, king who led them when they had to abandon Erebor the last time. She gathered her scattered people into the Blue Mountains and reestablished a lost kingdom.

Fíli was astounded as he learned how his aunt had overcome a background that had included crafting and running a household but nothing more than basic self defense and nothing at all about running a kingdom. And as he thought about it, those supposed lacks were among the things he admired most.

Thorin ran her exiled kingdom the way she would run a household. Everyone had their place and responsibility, but in the end everyone was working for the common good and everyone was cared for. And she would not stand for court sessions to dissolve into brawls and duels the way they had in Thrór's day - if words could not suffice then there would be no argument.

He had wondered sometimes at the simplicity she always showed. Dwarf made goods commanded a good price among Men - even a child knew that. She shared with them, taking care of her sister and sister-sons before herself, but there was always enough for Dís to have jewels shimmering in her hair and lace lining her skirts. Why should Thorin only have simple silver beads in her few braids? Why should her clothes be well made but without much ornament?

And the answer was the same. _She took care of her household_. Thorin's wealth went to her people. As a good mistress would pay her servants even in lean times so they would not suffer unduly, so Thorin treated her entire kingdom. Dís was the symbol, dressing and acting as a princess where her sister could not, and Thorin was the substance - the provider and caretaker.

Fíli realized that he had never admired her enough. And though the traits he had admired came from a woman's learning, he held them no less precious and important. Indeed, within a week he had shared out clothes he didn't wear frequently and given away his old toys to families with young children. He was praised for his maturity and generosity, but he knew he was only following the lessons that the very best Dwarf had taught him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no clue for the last chapter. Any thoughts are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli goes to the prom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU (although not my usual one). Dís has been dead for around 2 years. Transphobia mentioned, along with intolerant family.
> 
> I'm using Spivak pronouns for Fíli (e, em, eir, eirself). E found them while doing research for school and they felt right to em, at least while e is figuring eirself out.

The bathroom door was open when Thorin walked by, so he glanced in and then stopped to watch Fíli's last preparations for the prom. The teenager was wearing dress pants, the creases ironed in as neatly as they could do. E was also wearing a girl's blouse with a wide lacy neckline. Eir hair was gelled back and eir beard neatly trimmed. E had dangling deep garnet earrings that were a good color against eir blond hair, and a black velvet choker with a garnet tie pin in it. The suit jacket that went with the pants was thrown over the hamper to be put on later. When Thorin looked in, e was putting on lipstick, a deep red that matched eir garnets.

"Your therapist thinks it's because of your mother's death," he said, leaning on the door frame.

"Really?" Fíli answered, pressing eir lips together and then exchanging the tube of lipstick for an eyeliner pencil. "And what does he think of the fact that you still put on skirts when your father and brother visit so they won't notice you don't have breasts anymore?"

Thorin felt the breath whoosh out of him, unable to muster a reply. The children hadn't known until they came to live with him. He saw his family so infrequently, even Dís, who was the only one to accept him. But when she had left them in his care in her will, it had been contested all the way through the courts and his gender was only one of the things Thráin and Frerin used to try and get him declared unfit. In the end, it was his mother's cancer diagnosis that got them to stop. They couldn't give the children the attention that was needed when they had to take care of her.

Fíli looked up, one eye darkly lined, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Uncle...." e said, brows drawing close in guilt. "It's not your fault I'm like this."

"I never said it was," Thorin said, crossing his arms defensively. Fíli recognized the posture and just snorted, turning to eir other eye. E had less than twenty minutes until eir friends picked em up.

"You never displayed this behavior when your mother was alive," he said finally, voice soft.

Fíli looked into the mirror pensively. "When dad walked, mom needed us to be model children. I was young, but old enough to understand that. Your dad wanted to take us away then, saying being a single mother wasn't the right way to parent. I had to be the perfect son to show he was wrong."

E looked up, twisting the eye shadow in eir hands. "I knew what it meant to be the perfect son, so I never let anyone find me when I played with her make up. Not even Kíli." Resolutely banishing the dark mood, Fíli opened the eye shadow and started applying it.

"You've never said," Thorin said faintly.

"It wasn't important. I was glad to be her perfect son if it made her happy." E stood and turned, grabbing the jacket. "Well?" e asked nervously.

Thorin looked em up and down, taking in the mixture he was presented with. "Fíli, it isn't so simple. Outside of school...."

The teen stepped forward. "I know." E took Thorin's hand. "I know. But I have the _best_ role model to show me I can be who I am."

Thorin closed his eyes, holding Fíli's hands tightly in his own. "I worry," he admitted softly.

"I know," Fíli answered. "I love you."

Thorin took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He helped Fíli into eir jacket and walked with em to the door. "Have a good time at the prom. If you need me, I'm only a phone call away and I'll come running."

"I know," Fíli repeated, smiling wide, strong white teeth outlined with dark red lips and further outlined by the golden brown of eir beard and mustache. E darted out the door when there was a honk for em.

Thorin watched em go and then leaned out the door. "I love you too," he called, not sure he could remember the last time he'd said it back when one of them said it to him. "Be safe and have a good time!"

Fíli waved over eir shoulder and was gone. Thorin watched out the door long after the car of teenagers was gone and hoped that the acceptance of teenagers would turn the world into a place where Fíli would be safe to be who e was, whoever e was.


End file.
